


I'm Fine.

by heartbreak_conga



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Gay Male Character, M/M, Self-Harm, kind of hella sad, no yoko ono, probably gonna be more than one chapter tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-14 16:40:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartbreak_conga/pseuds/heartbreak_conga
Summary: Paul loves John so much its quite literally killing him. Staying up at all hours of the day just to make sure John is okay. John is struggling with a heroin addiction and Paul is just trying to help.





	1. Chapter 1

July, 1967  


Paul watched John from across the bar and his heart sank in his chest. He loves John. He loves him more than the world and seeing him starting to do these things to himself and going down this hole was killing him. He watched as John held up the metal bowl to his lips. The stranger next to him sparked his lighter and held it to the bottom of the bowl. John closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, holding his breath before letting the smoke pour out from his lungs. Paul turned away and downed the rest of the drink in his hand before going over and getting between John and the stranger. "John love I think we better get going. We have to be at the studio early tomorrow." Paul said into his ear, only earning a glazed look from John. One hit and he was already out. Paul frowned and took John's glass from his hand and shoved it at the man next to him. He grabbed John's arm and slowly lead him outside and hauled a cab for the two of them. By the time he turned around John was already laying down in the snow, drooling onto his shoulder and glasses half way off his face. Paul frowned and quickly hoisted him up, basically carrying the older man into the cab. "God Johnny, you're gonna be the death of me." He mumbled before giving the driver the address to John's apartment by Central Park. 

Once the cab pulled up outside the building Paul paid the driver and again, basically carried John inside and to the elevator. He pressed the button to John's floor and held onto John tighter. John just mumbled a string of nonsense words and leaned against Paul's side for support. His eyes opened slightly and just looked up at Paul who was already staring down at John. And Paul knew that look all too well. That look is whats going to kill Paul one day. That 'I love you so much' look. That 'I don't know what i'd do without you look'. Paul couldn't help but crack a small smile and kiss John's head before the elevator doors opened. He sighed and carried John into the apartment and turned the lights on, carefully setting John down on the couch. "Just wait here love. I'll make some tea to help you feel better." He said and was off to the kitchen. 

It's not that Paul is stupid. He knows what's wrong with John. He knows hes an addict and is willingly doing this to himself any chance he gets. But Paul will always brush it off as John not feeling well. Anyone notices John nodding off in an interview, Paul chimes in with, 'Oh he's just not feeling well today'. Paul filled the kettle and put it on the lit burner before making his way back into the living room. John is exactly where he left him on the couch in the same position he was put down in. Laying on his side and face smushed into the pillow. Paul frowned to himself and just covered him with blanket, taking his glasses off and setting them down on the coffee table. He kissed John's head and went to turn the kettle off. He felt a weird feeling in his chest but couldn't put his finger on it. He didn't like it though. Not one bit. 

October 31, 1967  
Halloween night should feel like it goes on forever with any young rock stars. They should be out all night, doing god knows what with god knows who. They should be drinking until they can't remember and having the time of their lives until the sun comes up. Instead, Paul is up in John's apartment and making two cups of tea as the love of his life sits on the couch, rubber band around his right bicep -or whats left of it anyways- and metal spoon in his opposite hand. He hears the sparks from the lighter go off and his heart instantly sinks. At this point it's a daily thing Paul sees and has to go through with John but it never gets easier. In fact, it kills Paul more and more every time he sees John go though his daily ritual. He walks into the living room with the tea and sits right next to John, staring down at the fresh needle and syringe on the table in front of him. "John love, why don't we just watch a movie tonight?" He said softly and looked over at John, who was much to busy trying to heat up and dissolve the brown powder and water mixture on the spoon. 

"Oh c'mon Macca" John said and chuckled. "You worry about me too much. I'm fine, love." He said and tapped his forearm to find the best vein he had left. Paul looked down at John's arm and instantly cringed. It was truly something out of Paul's nightmares and he had to see it everyday. The scabs, the track marks littering all up and down John's arm. Half of his veins were collapsed from shooting up too much. It was gradually getting harder and harder for John to find good veins these days. The other day Paul saw John injecting the needle in his fingers to try and get a fix. Paul pretended he didn't see and kept vacuuming. John tied the rubber band tight and held it in place with his teeth before injecting the needle into his arm. He pulled back on the syringe plunger before slowly pushing it down. Once the syringe was empty he untied the rubber band and let the dope run through his veins. Paul frowned and just pulled the needle out of his arm and wiped away the few drops of blood that came out. John smiles lazily and let himself fall back into the couch with his head falling to the side. There was that feeling in Paul's chest again. It happens every time he sees this happen. Everyday like clock work Paul gets this tight feeling in his chest he can't stop. It's slowly getting worse and worse each day and Paul is starting to wonder if it'll ever stop.

Paul carefully wiped the drool from John's chin and laid him on his side, just like always and threw the used needle away. "I'm always gonna worry about you Johnny.." He said quietly and cleaned up the little baggy of dope and the lighter. He put them all away in their little stash box and hid it back in it's place on the mantle. High enough so Julian can't reach whenever he visits and surrounded by enough vintage books nobody questions what it is when they stop by. Even though the only people who came by on a regular basis were George and Ringo. They just..worry. They worry about how John is doing and George is slowly starting to worry more and more about Paul. He's starting to look more tired these days, and the light in his eyes no longer looks bright and warm. It's starting to go cold and empty almost. It was a scary thought for George to think about but he chalked it up as Paul just being sleep deprived. 

December 14 , 1967  
Cynthia came by around 10:00 a.m to drop off Julian and his bag for his weekend stay with John. Paul went downstairs and met her to pick up Julian, saying John ran out to get a few things but will be back shortly. Julian said goodbye to his mother and instantly ran over to his uncle Paul who picked him up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Uncle Paul lookit! I lost another tooth the other day! That means I lost four of them in one month!" He said proudly and curled into Paul's chest to stay warm. Cynthia smiled and handed Paul Julian's bag before saying her goodbyes and getting back in her cab. Paul knows if she knew what John was up to he'd never see Julian again. She wouldn't even allow supervised visits if she knew what went on upstairs every day. Or if she knew what John did at every party or any social event the boys had to go to. One secret that could ruin little Julian's life and suddenly the boy wouldn't have a father anymore. 

"Wow four whole teeth!? That's amazing buddy! I bet your daddy will wanna hear all about it. But he's taking a nap right now so we gotta be quiet when we go inside okay?" He said while carrying the four year old into the elevator. He let Julian press the button for the right floor and listened to him ramble on and on about how Santa was gonna bring him new toys because he was such a good boy this year. It's funny. Every time John has Julian for a weekend that pain in Paul's chest goes away. Well, not completely but it's almost as if it's gone away for the most part. Paul did look at Julian like his own. How can he not? He helps raise the kid and Julian never stops talking about how cool uncle Paul is when he gets home to his mother. John isn't a bad parent. Not by any means because he loves his son and would do anything for him. He was just sick. And Paul knows what it's like to have a sick parent who was just too tired and sick to play anymore. 

Once they got into the apartment Paul set Julian up in the living room with cartoons and a snack. "Stay here for a second buddy. I'll be right back." He said and went off down the hall to the master bedroom. Paul walked over to the bed and carefully shook John's shoulder. "C'mon love it's time to get up. Jules is waiting for you." He said quietly and prepped John's face with a few soft kisses. This is always Paul's favorite part to the day. Right when John wakes up, just for a minute he's just like old John. His John. The same goofy and loving person Paul had known since he was fifteen. Right before the shakes start to kick in and John needs a bump to calm them down. 

John slowly opened his eyes and greeted Paul with a sleepy smile. "Thanks for picking him up for me love. Don't know what I'd do without you." He said and gave Paul a soft kiss before getting up and getting dressed. Paul just smiled and made the bed before he went back out to keep an eye on Julian. John waited for Paul to leave before dumping a small amount of brown powder on his hand and sniffing it up. Not enough to get him high, but enough so he doesn't get the shakes or the nausea. He cleared his throat, wiped his nose and put his glasses on before walking out to be with the two loves of his life. Julian looked up from where he was coloring with Paul and smiled, instantly getting up and running into John's arms.  
"Daddy I missed you! Look look me and uncle Paul are drawing pictures together." Julian said with a big smile. "And look! I lost another tooth!" He said excitedly, opening his mouth wide so John could see just where he had the gaps. John smiled and kissed his head a few times while walking over to the couch.  
"I missed you more bub. That's so amazing i bet the tooth fairy is bringing you all kinds of stuff right?" John asked and listened to Julian ramble on and on about how he gets one whole pound for every tooth he looses. John listens but he can see Paul watching him out of the corner of his eye and he has that face again. That "I worry about you" look. Paul seems to have that face a lot these days and John doesn't know why. He's fine. He's a big boy he knows what he's doing. John is pulled away from his thoughts when he feels a tiny hand tracing the track marks and scars on his arm. He looks back to Julian who has stopped talking and is now frowning and looking at John's arms.  
"Daddy you got boo boos all over your arm. Are you okay? Did you fall?" The four year old asks and looks back up at his father. John frowns and freezes in his spot. He can't think. He can't talk. He can't do anything as he tries to figure out what to say back. Before he can collect his thoughts Paul swoops in and picks Julian up from Johns lap and carries him into the kitchen.  
"Daddy just scraped his arms up when he fell the other day. Do you want a snack?" Paul said quickly and moved right onto another subject to distract the toddler who instantly forgot about what just happened and is nodding happily. John zones out and just keeps thinking the same thought over and over.  
"I'm fine. I've got it under control. I'm fine"


	2. Chapter 2

March 4, 1968 

The band had gone to some promotional party for the night. In some random mansion, owned by some random person that was probably important to their career. Paul had made John promise to stay by this side or at least in his eye sight for the night. John once again promised he was fine but agreed anyways. George and Ringo were eyeing the two on the other side of the limo with frowns on their faces. Everyone could instantly tell the two men were not okay to say the least. John's speech was naturally starting to slur and his conversations were starting to make less and less sense. His body language was becoming more lagged and like he didn't have feeling in parts of his body from the way he held himself. John Lennon was destined for greatness. He was so sure of himself and he was funny and loving and alive. This person that is in front of them, this person who took John's name is not John Lennon. Once upon a time he was but not anymore. Now this person is a hollow shell -a ghost- of what John Lennon used to be. 

And then there was Paul. Paul McCartney who was once so bubbly and warm, with the universe in his eyes was had now gone cold. Not cold in the sense he was angry or uncaring. Paul's downfall was that he cared far too much. He had gone cold in the sense that he was tired. Anyone with a brain could tell Paul is running on empty and has been for a long time. The dark haired boy had never been chubby by any means but how his cheeks sunk in ever so slightly. His clothes hanged loosely from spots they didn't before. The bags under his eyes were more and more noticeable and his eyes followed John everywhere he went. Paul hasn't been eating. George could see it. Ringo could see it. Even John had started to notice but nobody said anything. He cares about John. He worries about John. Paul makes sure John eats. He makes sure he showers and sleeps but somehow Paul's own needs have gotten lost in his head. Inside he is drowning and it burns his lungs every single time he tries to gasp for air but he doesn't dare ask for help. Yes he is drowning and he feels like he has rocks tied onto his shoes to weigh him down but he wont ever ask for help. He doesn't need help. He can swim, it's just getting difficult. He can take care of John, it's just getting difficult. Will he ever admit that? No. He can take care of John. He doesn't need help from anyone, not George not Ringo or Brian. John is Paul's responsibility. No one else's. 

Their limo pulled up in front of the lavish house and George and Ringo instantly gazed out the window in amazement at the fountain in the driveway. The second the other two turned their heads, Paul pulled out a tiny baggy filled with brown powder and dumped the smallest amount onto the back of his hand. He sighed and held it out for John, who leaned down, blocked one nostril and sniffed away. Paul frowned and looked tucked the baggy back into his pocket and kissed John's head. He was an enabler. He knew it too and that killed him. He was feeding into John's addiction and feeding into the thing that was killing the person he loves most in the world. It was only ever enough to keep John steady. To keep him on his feet and have him talking without too many people asking questions as to why John can't form a full sentence or stand by himself without the support of a wall. Just enough to keep him steady. That's all it was and that is what Paul stood by. 

He can't bear seeing John starting the early stages of withdrawals and the pain he goes though. It always starts with the shakes. Minor at first and something you can just pass off as being a little chilly. Then the mood swings hit and they always seemed to leave Paul sobbing as he tried to get John to drink some water. The nasty comments he knew John didn't mean but couldn't stop yelling. Calling Paul nasty things that left him broken and left an emotional scar. Once the sweats start Paul knows to turn off his emotions and goes into autopilot. It can only go down hill from there and John will do just about anything to get a fix. Wither it be a direct main line, a pipe or a snort he needed something to get the pain to stop. There was the one time John had gone 12 hours without anything and was starting to lose it and was turning into a monster. A monster who had Johns face but there was nothing behind the once loving eyes Paul could gaze into for hours on end. This was a monster who took over John's body and called Paul a cunt for not giving him any dope. The monster who thew things and cursed at Paul who was rushing to get out the door and to the nearest corner to buy the one thing John loved more than him. This is a monster who put his hands on Paul and bruised his face with harsh blows and strings of nasty insults. Even though this monster was no longer John, Paul can't help but to still love him and will do anything for him. 

The boys exited the limo and made their way up the front steps and into the house. Paul grabbed the cigarette from behind his ear and placed it between his lips before rummaging through his pockets for a lighter. His hands were shaky and Ringo seemed to be the only one to notice. The shorter man ignited his own lighter and held it out for Paul who gave him a small, thankful smile and lit the fag between his lips. George walked in and Ringo followed right after. John instantly grabbed Paul's hand and walked inside with him after giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm alright love." John whispered into his ear. "Promise i'm fine. You know i'm a big boy Macca I can handle myself at a party you know." he teased and gave Paul's hand a squeeze as they weaved through the sea of people inside. 

An hour has passed since Paul had last seen John and hes starting to worry. Not a weird butterfly in your stomach kind of worry. The kind of worrying and anxiety that made the bile in his stomach start to rise up into his throat and any inhale burn his lungs. He's drowning. Paul looked around the crowd of dancing people and tried to look for John, or at least Ringo or George. It's getting harder to breathe and keep his vision straight. John isn't downstairs. He isn't by the food or even the bar. Outside. He has to be outside, smoking a fag or just getting some air. Paul took a deep breath and ignored the burning in his lungs as he quickly went out onto the back patio. His eyes scanned around the area and found a familiar face. George was by the fire pit, guitar in his hands and a cigarette hanging from his lips. Paul made his way over and tried to compose himself. Making a full sentenced was proving to be harder than he thought it would be. 

"Have you seen John? He said he was going to get a drink an hour ago and I haven't seen him since." He rushed out and kept looking around frantically. Every breath is starting to burn more and more. He's drowning but won't scream for help. Before George could even answer Paul is rambling and struggling to pay attention to his surroundings. "I can't find him. What if something happened? What if someone offered him something? You know he won't say no-" Paul rushed out before George stood up and put his hands on Paul's shoulders, making the other Beatle stare into his eyes. 

"Paulie you need to stop for a second and breathe. Just take a deep breathe for a second okay?" George said calmly and pushed some of Paul's hair off his forehead. Paul stared at George and tried his best to do what he said. He's still drowning and he's afraid to breathe in. He does it anyways because what else can he do at this point. George sighed and wiped a stray tear off Paul's cheek and Paul started to wonder when he even started crying. "We'll find him okay? It's just a house there are only so many places he could be. Did you check the upper levels yet? Or the bedrooms?" He asked and Paul started to wonder how George always managed to stay so calm and collected. Paul simply shook his head and before he knew it, George was leading them both inside and up the staircase onto the cat walk above the party. He looked down at all the people below just to double check and make sure John wasn't lingering around in some corner of the room. He wasn't which only made the burning in Paul's lungs worse. They checked bedroom after bedroom and found nothing other than the occasional drug fulled hook ups going on. George sighed and started for the bathrooms on the second floor. Paul followed right behind him and opened the door to the first bathroom. The second they opened the door Paul could take a breath and suddenly he wasn't drowning anymore. He knew where John was and that was one worry crossed off his list. 

John was sat up in the bathtub, rubber band on the floor and an empty needle sticking out of his arm. Paul rushed over and instantly checked his pulse; something he was far to used to doing these days. Paul sighed in relief and took the needle out of his arm and looked at George. "He's okay.. he's alright he's fine." He mumbled, mainly to himself before pushing Johns hair out of his eyes. "John love can you hear me?" Paul asked quietly and sweetly, running his fingers though John's hair. John only slurred out an inaudible sentence in response, head falling to the side. Paul frowned and carefully helped John up before George rushed over to help. They both wrapped one of John's arms around their shoulder to keep him up and started to take him back into the hall. Paul stopped and frowned right before they got to the stairs and looked down at all the people. "W-we can't take him out this way. T-They can't see him like this. Nobody can see him like this." Paul said and wiped a few tears off his cheek. He could feel the water slowly starting to fill up his lungs again and only held onto John tighter. George bit his lip and thought for a moment before taking John's arm off his shoulder. 

"Alright. Just stay here with him for a second okay? I'll be right back." George said and disappeared down the stairs. He made his way through the crowed and searched until he found the shortest Beatle, who was standing over by the bar and talking to the bartender. In George's opinion, she had far too much makeup on anyways. Not Ringo's type in the slightest. "Rich!" he called and waved the other over. Ringo frowned, whispered something to the bartender who giggled and winked before Ringo made his way over. 

"Yes darling?" Ringo said with a shit eating grin on his face. "Don't tell me you're jealous sweetie pie. I was just having a bit of fun." He teased and blew a kiss in George's face. 

George groaned and rolled his eyes before pulling Ringo towards the stairs. "Not now you tart. We have to get John back into the limo and hes strung out of his brain. And poor Paul is on the verse of a stress induced heart attack." He sighed as they made their way up the stairs. He could tell Ringo was frowning. He didn't even have to look at him but he could tell. Ringo had gone quiet and George felt a pang in his heart. What caused the pang? He didn't know for sure. Was it because John is slowly becoming more and more of a burden? Or because Paul is slowly killing himself and fading away right in front of their eyes? Maybe it was simply because he snapped at Ringo, who was just trying to have a good time at a party for once. Not having to worry about anything else for one night and now he can't even do that. 

Paul sat on the floor, leaning against the wall with John's head in his lap. He sighed and just carefully ran his hands though John's hair and quietly hummed the same song his mother used to sing to him before she died. Paul's used to this. He's always been used to this. When his mum got really sick she needed Paul's help the same way John needs his help. Paul made her tea and all her meals while his dad worked. He made sure she was okay because that was his job. Now he just does the same thing for John because he can't even imagine if he lost John like he lost his mother. 

George and Ringo rounded the corner and found Paul on the floor with John. Ringo frowned and felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He knew they were both sick. In different senses of course but now he can really see it. Paul suddenly look so..small. He looks fragile and exhausted on the floor. If it wasn't for his chest moving up and down anyone would think Paul was holding a corpse. But that's just how John looked all the time now a days. George sighed and carefully helped the two up and put his own jacket over Johns shoulders. "Alright, Paul I want you and Ringo to bring him outside. Put some sunglasses on him and keep his head down. If anyone asks just say he had too much to drink okay?" He said calmly and Ringo rushed right to John's free side and helped hold him up. 

George walked in front of them to shield the other three from most people as they made their way to the front door. In no time they were out of the god awful party and back into their limo. Paul sighed and just clung onto John for dear life in the corner seat, still brushing his hair back. George watched as it happened and payed close attention to Paul's face. His brows were furrowed and his left eye jerked up ever so slightly every once and a while. That jerk could be one of two things. One, Paul was just tired, especially after all that. Two, the poor lad was starting to develop a stress tick. George hoped and prayed to God it was the first option as the car became to pull away from the house. 

Paul leaned back and held John close, looking out the window and watched the trees pass by. John was safe and he was okay and most importantly he was back in his arms again. They were going to go home, get John in bed and sleep tonight off. Chalk it up as a bad night and move on. Paul feels that pressure in his chest slowly start to fade out. It was strange but he almost didn't want that feeling to go. Yes, it was an awful feeling and it hurt beyond belief but it was better than not feeling anything at all. Which is what has been happening more and more to Paul these days. But hes okay, at least that's what he keeps telling himself. He's okay. He's fine.


	3. Chapter 3

April 19, 1968

John is asleep, the house is clean and the dishes are done. That leaves Paul out on the balcony, by himself and curled up in one of John's old jumpers. This one jumper was special though. Mimi had given it to John for his 16th birthday. One of the first nights John and Paul were writing together John had given it to Paul to sleep in. It was the one jumper Paul would always steal because it reminded him of that night. Freshly fifteen and had a school girl crush on this cool older art school boy. Staying up until the crack of dawn writing songs together and pouring their hearts out, and Paul was almost always wearing that damn jumper. Plus, no matter how often Paul wore it, it always smelt like John. Always smelt like home. Young and naive and in love. Before Paul knew what it felt like to constantly be drowning and back when he still got hungry when he didn't eat. More importantly, when John wasn't sick and they both weren't struggling to stay afloat. 

Paul sighed and took a long drag from the fag hanging out of his mouth and looked out over central park and the city lights. Paul never liked the city very much. John loved it so Paul stayed. He did miss home and miss what life was like before the fame and the money. When it was just him and John up in his room at Mimi's house. Paul took another drag before flicking the cigarette butt off the balcony and curling into himself more. He could hear John's snoring from the bedroom window and relaxed every so slightly. He feels okay for the moment. Maybe 'Okay' isn't the best word. He's not drowning which is good but he feels numb..empty almost. Maybe it was the fact he hasn't eaten a full meal in a few months or maybe it was the fact that the only way he could feel something, other than drowning, was to put out lit cigarettes on his skin. Either way, he's okay. He's fine. He just needs to worry about John. 

May 24, 1958 

Paul woke up like he does most mornings these days. Curled up in John's bed with John's arms wrapped protectively around his torso and waist. He looked up to find John still sleeping and with his glasses half way off his face. It felt perfect. It felt right. Every time he looks at John his heart beats faster and the butterflies come back to his stomach. God, he loves him so much and it's the moments like this that Paul wants to bottle up and keep forever. He slowly reached up and carefully took John's glasses off, putting them on his bedside table before grabbing his camera. Paul slowly wiggled out of John's arms without waking him and snapped a few pictures. He giggled to himself quietly before putting it down and jumping right on top of John's chest and kissing all over his face. "C'mon Johnny wake up! You promised we'd go to Blackpool for the day and hang out on the dock." The younger of the two said and sat down right where John's stomach met his hips. John smiled before he even opened his eyes but when he did he knew he was so lucky that this is what he wakes up to in the morning. Paul in his PJ pants and the jumper Mimi had gotten him the year earlier, and his almost black hair sticking up in twenty different directions. 

"Good morning to you too, love." John said and yawned. "It's only noon. We can catch the 2 o'clock bus." He said and intertwined his fingers with Paul's before pulling him down for a sweet 'good morning' kiss. Paul just kept smiling and leaned down, kissing John back before pulling away. 

"I have never met another person with worse morning breath." Paul teased and giggled. John pulled a dramatic face and started rambling on and on about how Paul doesn't love him anymore because he has stinky breath. Paul just stared down at him and smiled, before he heard Mimi coming down the hall to John's room. He frowned and nearly threw himself off John's lap and onto the other side of the bed. Mimi walked right in, put down a tray of tea cups and opened the curtains with a smile. 

"Morning boys! Or should I say afternoon." She teased and opened John's window up to let in some fresh spring air. "You boys have another late night of writing?" She asked and only received nods from the two boys on the bed. Mimi smiles at them and walked over, giving them both a quick kiss on the forehead. "Paul your father called earlier. He said Mike has the flu. I told him that you are more than welcome to stay here for the weekend if you want." She said and handed him a hot cup of tea. 

Paul took the tea carefully and blew on it for a second before smiling back up at her. "Thanks, Mimi." He said and took a little sip. Of course by this point, Mimi knows off the top of her head how Paul likes his tea and makes it as such any time John says the younger boy is coming over or anytime Paul sleeps over so he has a nice hot cup to wake up to in the morning. She loved Paul. She really did and she's glad John found a friend he has so much in common with. 

"And John, your mother called. She wants you and Paul to stop by for tea later. I told her all about how you boys are going out for the day and she said anytime you boys get around to it is fine. She also said your sisters are starting to miss you very much so just go and pop in and say hello before you come back home tonight." She said while handing John his own cup of tea. "I'm going out to run some errands and probably won't be back before you catch the bus. Just be careful and stay together alright?" She said and got a face from John. She knew exactly what the face meant. The "Mimi i'm 18, I can take care of myself" look. "Oh John don't give me that face." She said and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I just worry about you is all. Just be safe and don't make me have to coming looking for you." She said with a smile before heading out down the hall and down the stairs. "DON'T FORGET YOUR GLASSES JOHN LENNON!" Mimi called upstairs before heading out the front door. Paul just giggled and crawled out of bed to change his clothes. 

"I guess you're stuck with me for a few more days, Lennon." He teased and slipped into the jeans from yesterday that were on the floor. John just watched him with a smile and kept sipping on his tea. He gets Paul for the whole weekend and they don't even have to make up a story as to why Paul is spending so much time there. No "Oh he's helping me study for the big test" or "we just wanna finish this one song we've been working on". Just him and Paul the whole weekend. Mike getting sick was probably the best thing that could have happened. 

"Oh what a shame. How am I supposed to cope with you for a whole weekend." He teased and pulled Paul back down on the bed. God he loved him so much. He loved everything about Paul. Everything. The way his eyes crinkled up when he smiled, the way his nose scrunches up when he laughs. He even loved the way he snored when he was overly tired. Not a loud snore that kept John up the night but a soft, almost inaudible snore that just made John fall asleep easier. Paul was his muse. He could write endless love songs about Paul and never get sick of it. It was a strange feeling. To be so young and so in love but he knows they're gonna make it. He couldn't imagine a life without Paul. Without waking up to Paul in his arms or hearing his voice or his laugh. He loves Paul so much it made his heart hurt and he was 100% okay with that. It was a good hurt. Not that Paul could ever make his heart hurt in an unpleasant way anyways. They're going to be okay. 

"I love you, John Lennon." Paul hummed with the same puppy dog love smile. The smile where John could tell that Paul loved him just as much as he loved him. 

"I love you more, Paul McCartney." He said back with his own puppy dog love smile before pulling Paul in for a kiss. They were going to be okay. How could a love like this ever go away? Paul and John just loved each other so much it hurt. It hurt in the best kind of way. April 19, 1968 

Paul looked out over the lights and subconsciously, lifted up the jumper sleeve and traced the small circular burn scars all over his arm. He was stressed. Well, he was always stressed but even more so than normal tonight. George is coming by with Ringo in the morning to do their weekly check in. They're starting to notice Paul is loosing weight and said they would start coming twice a week or more to check on him and John. He didn't know why they were so worried. He can take care of John by himself. He doesn't need Ringo or George to help him. After a while Paul could feel himself starting to shake and shiver. He pulled down the jumper sleeve and headed back inside to his and John's room. Okay, maybe he was spiraling. But it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. He's a big boy and he can take care of himself. 

Paul quietly went into the room and stripped off the jumper, looking for something thicker to wear. He can't seem to get warm these days. It was a strange feeling, considering Paul used to be a small human radiator of heat. As he searched John's closet he heard John shift in the bed. John sat up and slid his glasses on his nose. Paul turned around and John was just frowning at him. "God m'sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up love. Go back to sleep." He said quietly and walked over, kissing John's cheek. He turned on his heel to go back to the closet but John grabbed a hold on his wrist and held him in place. Paul frowned and looked back at John, raising an eyebrow. 

"Paulie..love, you look a bit thin. Maybe you should eat something before you come to bed." John said and rubbed his eyes from under his glasses. Paul just shrugged and pulled his arm away before John had the chance to see the burn scars, pulling the same jumper on over his head. and crawling into bed, right next to John. He couldn't think of a way to tell John he simply wasn't hungry. In all honesty he hasn't been hungry for a long time. It's not that he hated how he looked or thought he was fat. Eating anything more than a snack he wanted to throw up. Eating made him physically ill and he couldn't help it. 

"M'not hungry." He said quietly and got under the covers. John just frowned and wrapped his arms around Paul tightly. Even though they were both sick and John had his good and bad days. These were the moments Paul still loved. When John was in a clear minded state and wasn't dope sick. When if he tried and thought hard enough it was almost like the old days and they were back in John's room at Mimi's. John holding him and Paul curled into his chest. It never failed to make the bad feelings go away. In these moments, Paul was never drowning, John had a few moments where he was back to being silly, goofy John. They were themselves again. And for a second, only a second, Paul felt warm again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :-) I'm not 100% happy with how this turned out but ! Next chapter will be better i promise...maybe


	4. Chapter 4

May 5, 1968

John is trying to get better. Trying. Paul likes to use that term loosely. John had promised to get clean by July but Paul can see how hard he's struggling. It's ugly. It's turning John into a nasty person and that just isn't how he is. He's in pain so Paul can't be too upset with him because he is trying. Last night was a mess and it seems like a blur. Almost like it wasn't real but the faint smell of vomit and the bruising that scattered his body reminded him that it was indeed real. Trying to get clean had made John an angry person. It was ugly and terrifying to watch and go through. The night before was hands down the worst night of Paul's life. John was screaming and throwing things, saying how he needed Paul to go out and score him some dope. The week before John also made Paul promise not to get him any drugs no matter what. Of course he stood by his promise because he loves John. He'd do anything for him. The screaming and throwing things turned into shoving and the shoving turned into smacks and punches. It wasn't anything horrible. It's not like Paul needed to go to the hospital, but it did hurt to move around a lot. John had fallen asleep on the couch that night and Paul had been terrified to go into the living room all day. He loves John. He just want's him to be happy. Paul would do anything to make John happy. 

May 4, 1968 

John threw another book at the wall before clawing at the skin on his arms. He was shaking and sweating. His insides felt like they were on fire and he just wanted to shoot up to make the pain go away. It hurt. It hurt a lot. He was in a blackout rage and couldn't even stop it. John stormed over and grabbed Paul by the shirt, holding him against the wall, yelling and screaming about how he needed Paul to go out and get him more dope. This is the first day Paul refused to go out and get anything for him and John was mad. Beyond mad. He was almost shaking he was so mad. How dare he. How dare Paul think he can control what John does. How dare he make him go through this pain. It was a string of curses and insults after another. Screaming right in Paul's face about how much he hated him and how he wanted him to move out. It never fully registered that Paul was hysterically sobbing in fear, trying to push John away. He was terrified to say the least. Crying so hard he was starting to gag but far too weak and malnourished to push him away. Next thing he knew, Paul felt a sharp pain on his left cheek. Before he had time to react and go to hold his face there was the same pain on his other cheek. John had hit him. Fully smacked him across the face. Not once but twice. John has never put his hands on Paul before. Ever. Now here he is, screaming at the love of his life and smacking him as hard as he could across the face because Paul refuses to feed into his addiction anymore than he already does. Paul is just trying to help. He really is. He knows John's head is too foggy and clouded to process what he's doing. 

Paul hiccuped and went to go hold his face, trying to wipe his tears away as they ran down his cheeks. John's eyes were still wild and terrifying to look at. Paul tried to look away, only to have John grab his face and force him to look him in the face. "I am in fucking pain, Macca. I need it! I need anything to make the pain stop." John yelled. He wasn't as mad as before. Paul can tell he was getting tired and prayed to god he would just pass out soon. Before Paul had time to refuse once again, John was making a B-line to the bathroom to throw up once again. It came with the withdrawals. The vomit, mood swings, and even the shakes. It was heart breaking to watch but Paul made a promise that he was going to help John get clean. He promised. 

Paul made his way to the bathroom, still crying and got on the floor next to John. He sniffled and just rubbed his back carefully before he got a hand in his chest, shoving him onto the floor. "Don't fucking touch me!" John snapped before emptying his stomach once again into the toilet. Paul hit the tub when he fell back and frowned. He knows John is hurting. He knows he is in a lot of pain mentally and physically. The younger Beatle just slowly got up and made his way to the living room to clean up the mess John had made by throwing everything everywhere. He was still crying and he can't seem to stop. He isn't even sure what he's crying about anymore. Paul has this feeling. An awful feeling deep in his chest. He wasn't drowning. Not now. It was somehow worse. It hurt more than drowning and maybe that was the reason why he was still sobbing while he picked up the books and broken glass on the floor. It hurt enough to make someone cry but it was a strange dull ache that showed no signs of going away anytime soon. Paul just wiped his face on his sleeve and made the living room look just the way it had been set up earlier in the day. If it was clean then nobody would know what happened. Nobody has to know. 

Paul slowly helped John up and to the couch, once the nausea had settled down a little bit. John instantly collapsed onto the couch and fell asleep. Paul carefully covered John in a blanket and set a bucked up right next to the couch, along with a glass of water. He ever so quietly made his way back to their bedroom and shut the door before bursting into hysterical sobbing once again. He just wants to help. He just wants John to be okay and he's trying his best. George can't know. Ringo can't know. They'd send John off to some rehab and he doesn't need that. He needs Paul. He's sure of it. John doesn't need anyone else but Paul. He was starting to wonder if John also felt like he was drowning. Maybe he felt the same things Paul did. Or maybe his body and mind were too numb at this point to feel anything at all. 

To say Paul was scared to wake John up was an understatement. He was terrified. Paul paid close attention to every step he made, making sure he wasn't being loud as he walked over to the closet. Hanging up right in front was the jumper. The special jumper. The Mimi jumper. Paul caught himself frowning and instantly put it on. He buried his face in the fabric and inhaled deeply. John's cologne and cigarettes. The smell of home and security. The smell that made Paul feel safe and warm. Paul slowly and carefully made his way over to their bed and laid down on Johns side. He buried himself under the covers and melted into the sheets. He wants this whole night to be chalked up to some nightmare. Some strange nightmare that just felt too real for comfort. He wants John to be John again and he wants to forget what it feels like to be drowning. He wants to feel okay because as of right now he does not. He's really not fine. 

September 21, 1968 

John had officially been clean for three and a half months now. Paul truly could not be any happier. He is so beyond happy for John and he no longer feels like hes drowning. Three months of having the old funny and silly John back. Once John had detoxed and he could think straight he finally got a good look at Paul. At how his ribs started to poke out and how his cheeks had sunken in. He also noticed the burn scars covering his arm and helped Paul be who he really is again. They are both happy and healthy and back to living their lives. Ringo and George are also very proud. They never really thought Paul could single handily pull John out of the hole he had fallen into. Yet, here they all are. Out for brunch, all smiles and laughter. Just like the old days. Life is good. 

The waiter came over with a smile and asked what everyone would like to drink. Ringo went first, saying how he'd like a water. George went next, saying how he would just like another cup of coffee. Paul looked over the drinks menu and hummed. "Can I just get a Malibu with a splash of pineapple juice?" He said and handed the menu to the waiter with a smile. John did the same and put his glasses away. 

"Make that two, please." He said and went back to his story about the wild fan encounter he had earlier that week. George and Ringo just exchanged glances before looking at the two on the other side of the table. 

"It's 10:30 in the morning and you guys are already drinking?" George said slowly, giving Paul an almost worried look. Paul just shrugged and rolled his eyes with a smile. Nobody can ever truly be mad at Paul when he had that smile. 

"Oh c'mon Georgie. It's just one drink. " He said as the waiter came back with their drinks on a tray. He handed the drinks out and gave everyone, except George, a straw and took down their lunch orders. By the time everyone had ordered their food, Paul and John were half way done with their drinks and asking for two more Malibu drinks. Ringo noticed this has been happening more and more since John and Paul had gotten better. Drinks at brunch or at meetings or whenever they were in a social situation. At first it seemed like nothing. Just a mimosa with breakfast or a cocktail with lunch. Now it has moved onto rum mixed drinks before noon. Scratch that. Multiple rum mixed drinks before noon. It was probably nothing to worry about. John is clean and Paul is a healthy weight. Ringo just thinks it's him over thinking and worrying too much. 

By the time brunch was over, John and Paul were each three drinks in and getting giggly. John suggested they move to a bar down the street. Paul even offered to pay for everyone's drinks. George raised an eyebrow and looked at his watch. Not even noon and they're both tipsy. "I'm good boys but thank you for the offer. I need to get home to the wife." George said and gave them both hugs before calling himself a cab. Ringo made up some lie about how he needed to run some errands and did the same. John just shrugged and wrapped an arm around Paul's shoulder. 

"We don't need them anyways, love. We can have fun by ourselves can't we?" He said and smiled. Paul giggled and nodded, walking down the street with John to the bar. The place they called their second home as of late. They didn't need George and Ringo to have fun. They have fun by themselves all the time. Either just the two of them or the people they meet at the dive bar on the corner. They were just having fun. They just liked to drink and dance and be together all the time. Nothing bad was coming from them drinking. They are just having fun. 

Before they knew it, it was already eight at night. They have officially been drunk for close to nine hours and walking from point A to point B was getting harder and harder. Paul tried to walk back to the bar to order himself another drink, only to end up on the ground in hysterical laughter. John watched as his boyfriend tripped over his own feet and laughed so hard that he also fell over. Next thing he knew, Paul went from being on the bar floor to being in bed with John the next morning. It happened in the blink of an eye. Paul checked the clock and groaned. Ten in the afternoon. It wasn't uncommon for Paul to just wake up and not fully remember the night before. It's been happening more and more the past few months. It's not that big of a deal but he knows that if George or Ringo found out, they would throw a fit and claim they both had a problem. That is simply not the case. They're not alcoholics because they have control over what they do. They are just having fun and that's not a bad thing. After the past year they both had, they deserve to have fun together. 

John woke up shortly after Paul and gave him a sleepy smile, pulling him in closer for morning cuddles. He gave Paul's cheek and shoulder a few lazy kisses and nuzzled his face into the younger man's neck. "Mornin', love." He mumbled. "What time is it?" He asked with a yawn, intertwining his own fingers with Paul's. Paul smiled and just curled into John's chest, ignoring the pounding head ache he had. 

"A little after ten. I can't really remember much after the second time I fell down." He said and chuckled, kissing John's hand a few times. Theses were the moments he missed. The moments he craved for when they were both sick. John holding Paul like he was the most important thing in the world, and Paul holding onto John's warm hands. It was comforting. Now, it's just what he wakes up to most days. It was like a breath of fresh air. 

John just smiled and rubbed his eyes. "I remember seeing you fall off a bar stool after taking another shot, then it goes black until we got a cab and got into the apartment." He said and grabbed a cigarette off of the night stand. He put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it, taking a drag before handing it to Paul. "Jules is gonna be here in a few hours. Cynth said he was so excited last night he didn't sleep. Probably fell asleep on the plane." John said and smiled. "We are gonna have so much fun this weekend. Plus he loves you so much. He always talks about how cool his uncle Paul is to all his friends and his teachers." Paul just smiled and took a drag of the cigarette, listening to John talk about all the fun things they're gonna do with Julian this weekend. They both love Julian so much, plus John and Paul are the kings of fun now a days so it's going to be amazing. 

By the time the plane landed and John sent someone to go pick up Julian and Cynthia at the airport it was almost two in the afternoon. Paul cleaned up the empty beer cans and put away the half empty liquor bottles. At least he didn't have to hide heroin needles anymore. They made their way down stairs and out the front door right as the car pulled up. Julian opened the door and ran over to John and Paul as fast as he could, jumping right into John's arms. John smiled and spun Julian around, kissing all over his face. "Hey monkey! I missed you so so much!" He said and held onto Jules tightly. 

Paul smiled and grabbed Julian's bag from Cynthia, giving her a kiss on the cheek as hello. She just smiled and kissed his cheek back, walking over to John and Julian. Cynthia hummed and fixed Julian's jacket. "You remember what we talked about? No candy after four, no staying up past nine and don't drive your daddy and uncle Paul up the wall." She smiled and kissed Julian's head. "I'll see you in a few days baby. Be good." She said before quickly getting in her cab so she wouldn't miss her flight back to England. Julian smiled and made sure to wave goodbye to the cab as it left before turning all his attention back to John. 

"Daddy I drew a picture of me and you and mummy and uncle Paul together for school and my teacher gave me a gold star!" Julian said proudly and smiles "Aaaaand I lost another tooth!" He said and smiled big with his teeth so John could in fact see he was missing a tooth on the bottom row. John smiled and carried him back to the elevator with Paul. 

"That's amazing buddy!" John said and listened to Jules go on and on about all the fun things he's doing at school and how much he misses him. Since he got sober John called Julian more and more and wrote him more letters and sent more drawings. He misses him a lot when he isn't around. John loved hearing about Julian's day at school or the new toys he got. He even has a specific clock set to the time it is in England so John knows when its best to call Jules. 

Once they got back up to the apartment, Paul went right into the kitchen to make everyone lunch and some good old Irish coffee. He made Julian a grilled cheese with some goldfish and a juice box, walking it over to where he was in the living room. "Here you go monkey." Paul said and kissed his head before going back to pour him and John some coffee. Well, half coffee half brandy. Same thing. He grabbed the two cups and walked back over to the couch, sitting right next to John and handing him his cup. "You know Jules, uncle George and uncle Ringo are coming by tomorrow. Then all of us are gonna go out to the zoo and get some lunch." Paul said and took a sip of his coffee. Maybe it was just mostly brandy with a splash of coffee in it. Still qualifies as coffee. Julian smiled and munched on his food happily, watching the cartoons John had put on the T.V. The rest of that night almost went by in a blur. By ten o'clock they had the stereo blasting songs from their youth in Liverpool. Julian was jumping up and down on the couch and trying his best to sing along. Paul and John were laughing and dancing around the living room. Dancing might not be the best word. It was more like stumbling around and wiggling their asses to the music while trying not to fall over. Paul laughed and took another big sip of his "coffee" before giving John a big kiss and singing along to the song right in his face. John just smiled and sang along. Everything after that was just a headache to try and remember. 

In the morning, Paul woke up on the living room chair with John squished up right next to him. Julian was asleep on the couch, surrounded by empty candy wrappers. He groaned a little and nudged John before looking at the clock. Shit. They're late. George and Ringo are supposed to be coming in fifteen minutes and nobody is ready. Paul jumped up and shook John awake before going to wake up Julian. "C'mon monkey it's time to wake up. Uncle George and uncle Ringo are gonna be here soon." He said but only got a groan from the small child, who's eyes stayed shut. 

John rubbed his face and jumped up, rushing around to clean up the mess before the other two Beatles showed up. Once in the kitchen to throw away all the trash and put the dirty dishes in the sink. He opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, grabbing the bottle opener off the fridge and popping the cap off. He took a big sip while rushing to the bathroom to get ready. Paul on the other hand just picked Julian up and plopped him right on the bathroom sink in front of John. Paul sighed and wiped down the boys face and brushed out his hair, taking a sip of John's beer in the process. Some how, all three of them managed to look decent by the time the other two Beatles showed up and they were all off to the zoo. Of course they didn't leave before Paul and John could sneak their full flasks into their jacket pockets. They're fine. Neither of them have a problem. John is sober. Paul isn't drowning. Drinking just makes them fun and they're catching up on all the lost time they had when they were both sick. They're fine.


End file.
